


Samhain Night

by Imoshen



Series: SPN Heaven and Hell Bingo 2019 [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU probably, Book of the Damned, Gen, Ghosts, The Veil is lifted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-02 02:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20968544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imoshen/pseuds/Imoshen
Summary: The Book Of The Damned holds a very special spell. Rowena shares it with the Winchesters and Jack.





	Samhain Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Heaven and Hell Bingo for the square Book Of The Damned on my Card.
> 
> Also written for the Supernatural Trope Celebration Halloweeen Challenge.
> 
> I'm playing fast and loose with canon here, but I figure since the writers do the same... *shrug*

The Book of the Damned holds many secrets. Despite the blasé attitude she presents to others, Rowena respects the power its pages hold, and she knows there is always a price to pay for the spells it contains.

Nothing is easy when it comes to magic.

Rowena usually only uses the Book when she is out of options – which happens more often than not when the Winchester Brothers are involved – but tonight something told her to take it out of the locked and warded chest she keeps it stored in. Listening to your instincts is something every witch worth her salt learns early on, so she had undone the wards, taken out the silk-wrapped bundle and placed it on her kitchen table. She’d barely opened it and taken her hand off the pages when the wind picked up and blew with force through the single open window, the one she’d left open to get rid of the cooking smells.

Rowena holds her breath as she watches the pages flutter, flutter – and finally fall open on a spell. Picking up the codex, Rowena dares to breathe again. She carefully sits down and begins to read.

Sam and Dean stare at her with wide eyes, and in their expressions, Rowena can read her own fears and hopes. After all, how often do you get the chance to talk to those who are gone, say all you should have said when they lived?

But the Winchesters aren’t idiots, at least not in this. Sam’s eyes narrow.

“You said it’s a spell from the Book of the Damned? Then there’s a price to pay. You said it yourself, every spell in that book has a countereffect _somewhere_.”

Dean’s eyes narrow at that, too, but Rowena had anticipated this.

“Of course there’s a price to pay,” she says. Her voice sounds harsher than usual, betrays emotions she’d rather not have the Winchesters know about, but she can’t help it. “We only have one night, only from sunset on all Hallows Eve to sunrise on All Hallows Day. Every person involved in the spell can only call one person back from behind the Veil… and we can’t touch, can’t hug. We’ll hurt from it, and emotions have value in magic, remember?”

Sam winces. He’s not quite a witch, that one… but her senses always tingle with the sense of magic around him. He’s done enough spells to understand at least a few of the basic principles.

“Say we do this,” Dean begins. He’s still looking at her with narrowed eyes. “What’s in it for you? What kind of favor do you want for this, witch?”

Rowena growls and snatches the sheet with the transcribed spell up from the table. “If you can believe it,” and oh damn, there’s the Scottish going thick and broad but she’s at the end of her patience, “I offered because we’ve all lost enough, and I thought you might appreciate the opportunity. Forget I ever offered.”

Sam calls after her, but Rowena is too angry to be mollified by the man. She didn’t come here with her emotions so laid bare and vulnerable with it only to be insulted by Dean Winchester’s prejudices. It’s not as if she needs the brothers’ help with this kind of spell. Not anymore.

Rowena isn’t surprised when the Impala roars up to the lonely barn she set up as her workshop for this spell. She is a little surprised when no one charges in with a cocked gun and more accusations. Instead, Sam and Dean come in looking almost… sheepish? Well, that’s a new one.

Then Jack walks in behind them, and Rowena understands a little better. This is probably Sam’s influence, but as long as everybody remains civil… she did bring enough spell components for more than one person.

“Come here and follow my instructions,” she tells them, gesturing to the other three sides of her worktable. The small cauldron in the midst is already bubbling happily.

The spell is relatively easy, demanding more emotional investment and rare components than complicated rituals. Rowena’s heart is beating faster the closer they come to the end of the spell – and then it’s done, droplets of blood falling into the cauldron. The liquid inside turns bright red, then black. The fog it emits is thick and rises straight up before dropping a short distance away – almost like a veil.

Jack is the first to gasp, and while Rowena can’t see who he summoned, she has a good idea. Dean’s eyes go wide next, but she doesn’t care who either of the brothers asked for, because at that moment, a familiar figure steps out of the fog – pale, a little see-through around the edges, but still him. Still her son.

Rowena steps forward, away from the table. She knows she won’t be able to touch him, but she still holds out both hands – and Fergus echoes her. Her fingers brush through his and she wants to imagine she feels a hint of his warmth.

“Fergus,” she whispers.

“Hello Mother,” her son says, with that wry little smile. His voice is warm in a way it never was in life. A tear rolls down her cheek.

Dean stares at Adam, who’s looking back utterly unimpressed – but he came. Dean dares to count that as a start as he steps closer to the baby brother he never really got to know. He was too angry back then. Too young and stupid, maybe.

“I wanted to apologize,” he murmurs. “And maybe… share memories of Dad?”

Adam’s stance loses a little of its wary distrust. “Apologize for letting me die and not even staying to bury me, or for letting me be the one Michael forced into saying Yes?”

Dean winces. Yeah, kid has a point.

“Both, kinda,” he admits. “Should’ve gone different.”

Adam snorts a humorless laugh but sits down cross-legged. “Well, we’ve got time,” he tells Dean. “You’re making an effort, so I’ll listen.”

Dean nods and sits down across from Adam, trying to find the right words and knowing that in a way, they will never be enough.

Sam debated with himself, long and hard. There were several options, so many people whose names he carries on his heart, but he could only pick one – and so, in the end, he chose the one who, in a way, started it all.

She’s still as young and pretty and smiling as she was all those years ago, smiling softly at him. Her white nightgown is clean and whole. “Hello, Sam.”

“Jess,” Sam chokes out, suddenly that young, hopeful man again who fell in love with her. He’s grown and changed and loved others since he lost her, but it still hurts. “Fuck Jess, I’m so sorry!”

“Oh Sam,” she murmurs, holding out both hands. He wishes he could feel her ghostly hug. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have changed anything.”

He knew that for years already but hearing her say it is like cutting that old wound open to finally let all the pus drain. Sam sinks to his knees with her and lets the tears fall. Jess holds him without holding him, and when he finally calms, she sits back and grins at him. “And now tell me what became of you, Sam. I want to know everything.”

Sam blushes and she grins, and somehow, he finds himself talking.

Jack knew what Kelly looked like from her videos of course but seeing her in person for the first time is… he doesn’t have words to describe the emotion.

He never wanted to see her hurt, but he couldn’t protect her. He was too young.

She’s smiling so happily at him, her face so bright. “My boy,” she calls him. “My Jack. I’m so proud of you.”

Jack wants to hug her, wrap her in his arms and never let go again. He can’t, but he still reaches for her. “Mom.”

Kelly laughs, delighted. “I never thought I’d hear you call me that,” she says, and her voice is so warm, so gentle. “My son. Come here, let’s make the most of what we have, yes?”

Jack nods. He wants to ask her so many things, and now he has that opportunity. He knows it’ll hurt when she goes back tomorrow morning, but right now he can’t think about that. He has a stolen night with his Mom. That’s what counts.

Morning finds them all with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks down their cheeks, but no one makes any snide remarks. Maybe they’ll talk about those hours in between worlds, when the Veil was lifted for four people for a short while. Maybe they won’t talk about it all, keeping some things close to their heart. It doesn’t matter. It was special, and while it hurt – it also healed.

Rowena MacLeod, Sam and Dean Winchester, and Jack Kline sit quietly side by side, wrapped in warm blankets and thick coats, and watch the sun rise on that cold, cold first of November.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make an author's day <3


End file.
